


Fever Dreams

by RoseIsRelatable



Category: ONEWE (Band)
Genre: Fever Dreams, Gen, Short One Shot, Sickfic, soft twin moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseIsRelatable/pseuds/RoseIsRelatable
Summary: Dongmyeong has fallen ill, but he's far too stubborn to tell anyone and ruin their plans for comeback promos.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78





	Fever Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SayGingi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SayGingi/gifts).



> Happy birthday and thank you for always leaving me awesome comments and support on my silly stories. They gave me the prompt and I ran with it. SayGingi, I hope you have a lovely, Dongmyeongful birthday!

Dongmyeong’s head kept dipping towards his chest. It was like he was falling asleep behind his keyboard. His bandmates noticed. How could they not? He kept missing cues. He almost seemed like he was in another world. Dongmyeong’s eyes bore dark circles and his skin was pale, the cheeks and forehead painted red. Hyungu asked if he was okay. “Fine,” he’d said. “Just tired.”

The thing is, Dongmyeong wasn’t doing as well as he wanted them to believe. He’d woken early that morning with a terrible headache and a cramp deep in his belly. Pressing his palm against his sweating forehead, even he could tell his skin was hot as the sun, radiating a fever from his very core. But the boys had a comeback to promote. He couldn’t be sick. 

His bandmates, concerned, told him to keep drinking plenty of water while they were practicing. They asked if he wanted coffee. No, coffee would make it worse. He didn’t tell them that. He only said he was waiting for his second wind. It would come, he told them. 

The fresh air outside made him feel a little better. They headed home late at night after working hard all day long. His best friend in the world, warm-hearted Giwook, offered a piggyback ride home. Dongmyeong declined. He knew if any of them touched him, he’d give away his secret. They’d find out he was sick, and then what would he do? They couldn’t skip out on promotions for him. Dongmyeong wouldn’t allow it. 

Though the night was warm, Dongmyeong shivered in his t-shirt and jeans. A high fever always came with horrible chills, both for himself and his twin. Ah, Dongju. He probably caught this stomach bug from his younger twin. The one thing Dongju always wanted when he was sick was his brother, and Dongmyeong was so soft for the kid, he never said no. So he played nurse to his ailing twin a few days prior to falling ill himself. Dongmyeong wrapped his arms around himself and shivered again, making a mental note to text Dongju and ask exactly how long this misery would last.

He’d been unable to bring himself to eat anything more than rice all day, and it seemed to be helping with the stomach issues. What had begun as a sharp pain was now a dull, queasy ache. Dongmyeong walked through the door of the band’s dorm with all the strength and confidence he could muster. If anyone felt like they had to hold him upright while he walked, then his mask was off and they’d set about trying to take care of him. Dongmyeong doesn’t just let people take care of him. He is an adult. It would be a waste of energy for his bandmates unless he really couldn’t care for himself. He hoped that day would never come. Dongmyeong felt that the day he could no longer fend for himself was the day his life officially ended.

He flopped onto the sofa in the living room and turned on the television, ready to continue watching Itaewon Class with his bandmates. “Hey, don’t start it without us!” Harin called from the kitchen. “I’m making popcorn. Does everybody want some?”

Harin’s question was met with a collective cry of, “Yes!” and he started popping microwaveable popcorn. The smell of the fake butter, like congealed, rancid oil, hit Dongmyeong’s nose hard and he felt all of his hard work draining away as his stomach lurched. He shot up from the sofa and dashed to the bathroom, moving faster than he had all day.

Dongmyeong retched and emptied his stomach. He wiped his lips and rinsed his mouth with water. His headache had come back tenfold, hammering at his temples and making him dizzy. The bathroom seemed too brightly lit. He looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, thinking it looked like an overexposed photo. When the spots started floating in front of his vision, Dongmyeong sat down on the floor. He’d sit there, he thought, just for a while. And then he would get up and watch Itaewon Class with his friends and eat popcorn and everything would work out just fine. 

Another wave of nausea hit and he tried to throw up, but there was nothing solid left in his stomach. He groaned, collapsing back to the floor. Dongmyeong heard someone pounding at the bathroom door and he wished they’d be quiet. The pounding was accompanied by Yonghoon’s voice. “Dongmyeong-ah!” he called through the wood. “Are you okay? It sounds like you’re sick. Can you come out?”

Dongmyeong scooted closer to the door and reached up, gripping the knob in his clammy hand. He twisted it and the door fell open. When Yonghoon found him on the floor, he dropped to his knees and pressed the inside of his wrist against Dongmyeong’s forehead. Dongmyeong found himself being scolded because he was burning up and how could he not tell anyone he was feeling poorly? In a surprising show of strength, Yonghoon scooped his smallest bandmate into his arms and carried him out of the bathroom. Dongmyeong was transported to a dark, quiet room and he felt his head hit the cool pillow in his own bunk. “Don’t watch the episode without me, hyung,” he begged in a feeble whisper as his eyes fell shut. Yonghoon covered his shivering keyboardist with a blanket and left the room, promising that they would all wait to watch their show until Dongmyeong was feeling better.

The next thing Dongmyeong knew, he was floating through the sky. On the ground beneath him were dinosaurs and mammoths, massive creatures that could have swallowed him whole if they could have reached him. He landed on a rooftop. A boy sat at the edge of the roof, holding a fishing rod. Dongmyeong took a seat beside him and looked down. The boy was fishing for butterflies. “Hyung,” the boy said, turning his head to look at Dongmyeong. It was his twin brother. He was wearing enormous sunglasses. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m having a fever dream,” Dongmyeong giggled. “There are dinosaurs back that way.”

“Still too stubborn and independent to let anyone take care of you,” Dream Dongju sighed. “We’re so different. Wake up for a moment. There’s medicine by your bed. You really need to take it.”

“I’m so tired though,” Dongmyeong complained. “I don’t want to wake up yet.”

“Let your friends take care of you, hyung,” Dream Dongju said. He reeled in his fishing rod and took a glowing blue butterfly off the hook. “You’ll feel better.” He set the butterfly on Dongmyeong’s palm and it  _ burrowed into his skin,  _ leaving a blue glow behind. 

Dongmyeong opened his eyes and looked at his hand, flexing his fingers. His palm wasn’t glowing. By the low light of a small lamp, he saw a glass of water and a capsule of ibuprofen next to his bed. He reached for them, then became aware of someone dabbing a damp towel on his forehead. “Did you hear me, hyung?” his brother’s voice swam through his head. “I said you’ll feel better if you just let us take care of you.”

“Dongju-yah?” Dongmyeong rasped, looking up at his twin. “Am I still dreaming? Do you have more butterflies?”

The younger twin chuckled and moved the water closer, more within Dongmyeong’s reach. “Let’s see if we can get that fever down.” He placed the blue capsule in Dongmyeong’s palm. It didn’t burrow below the skin like the butterfly did. It just sat there, waiting to be swallowed. Dongmyeong fulfilled the capsule’s destiny, washing it down with a long drink of water. “Promise to stop being so stubborn. There’s no shame in getting sick. Just tell the rest of us so we can help you.”

“But the comeback schedule-” Dongmyeong began softly.

“But my brother’s health,” Dongju interrupted. He dabbed Dongmyeong’s face with the towel again. “Go back to sleep. That sounded like a cool dream. Dinosaurs and butterflies?” Dongju laughed. “You always get cooler hallucinations than I do when I’m sick. It only lasts a couple of days. You’ll be okay soon.”

Dongmyeong let his eyelids flutter shut, drifting peacefully back to sleep under his brother’s watchful eye.


End file.
